To Seal Your Fate

***

An immense, blinding pain shot through Draco's body. He dropped to his knees, tears already starting to stream down his dirt-smudged face. The sound of laughter echoed in his ear.

We had met at school often, though never spoken except in angry and sarcastic voices. Percy was years older and a Prefect to boot.

"Do you know what sins you committed, boy? Are you aware of why your fate is to die?" The voice was one he knew all too well. His father towered over his cowering figure and kicked him in the stomach.

Once I had gotten out of school, of course I did as my father wanted and joined the Death Eaters. I had also taken a lofty position in the Ministry of Magic as a side job, a way to keep a fairly good reputation for the entire world to see.

He didn't say anything, didn't lift his eyes from the ground. The dirt was flecked with blood. His blood.

When I had arrived in my office on my first day at work, however, I found the same red-haired fool who I had been yelled at by at school. The one who had punished me when I had done stupid, childish things.

"Boy, did you hear me?" Another kick, this time to the head. He knew that his stark-blond hair was matted with blood. Once, he would have cared about the state of his hair. But not now. Now he was going to die at the hands of his father.

Of course, there had been spats and squabbles. Our desks had been moved to opposite ends of the room and cold stares were exchanged from our seats.

"I've heard you, and I know. I know why you disown your own son for your master," he spat, lifting his head to stare into his father's eyes. Cold steel clashed together, though his father's held a fiery warmth that came from life that Draco knew his own had lost.

As time went on though, we began to discuss things on levels I had never dreamt of before. Books and classical music were his favorites, while I enjoyed having debates about Quidditch. We were the perfect match for each other.

"How dare you say that I disowned you. I can't have! I never wanted you!" His father's words stung bitterly, but Draco only dropped his head again. "You were a mistake."

Eventually the two of us could be seen walking down the halls together in deep conversations. We sat together at lunch and we even had dinner a few times.

Those were the words he knew he would hear eventually, but they were still sharp. His father had only kept the first child his wife bore because he needed an heir. All of the other children she had were brutally killed.

It was the night he brought me home to have dinner and to meet his family that I realized exactly what I thought of him. He was more than just a friend, somehow.

"I hate you! I've always hated you! I'd rather die like a dog at your feet than live by your, or your master's, side!" The words spilled from Draco's mouth like water from a tipped goblet. A hush fell over the mass of masked figures making the tight circle around them.

His family didn't take to me right away. His mother, a plump, cheery woman, was much kinder than the rest of them, but I think that they might have warmed up to me. All except for his youngest brother, the one who had been in my year at school.

"Too bad your mother isn't here. She would have loved to see you squirm in pain, you ungrateful child!" His father's voice trembled with anger, though a hint of sarcasm was still there. Draco flinched from his position on the ground, though only slightly. His father had killed his mother in front of him, because she had gone against the Dark Lord. He could still remember her beautiful silver hair splotched with blood. Still remember his father walking away and leaving the body for the house elves to collect.

After dinner that night, he and I sat outside on his porch, watching the starry sky. It was a black velvet sheet littered with diamonds. He had laid his head on my shoulder, his phoenix-red hair spilling over onto my robes.

"My mother loved you," he whispered to the ground. His body was weak, and he could no longer lift his head without great effort. He had lost too much blood.

He had smelled of wine and chicken. A nice combination for a mid-summer night. I took as much of his sweet scent in as I could without going into complete ecstasy.

"Your mother hated me from the day she met me. She wanted me dead." His father, for the first time Draco could remember, sounded shaken. Another kick to the head sent him flying a few feet. "But I got to her first."

We had sat there for an eternity, leaving me to contemplate how I got there. We used to hate each other because of our houses. We used to hate each other because of his prestigious titles and my inferior age. We used to hate each other because of our names. But now we were drunk together on his porch swing.

"You have sinned by killing a fellow Death Eater." A voice, not his fathers, came from somewhere in the darkness above him. "You are now to die in the name of his lordship."

His eyes, a brownish-hazel, looked up and met my gray. We stared intently at each other, expecting the other to move first. To do what we knew was going to happen. Nothing in our minds was clear, yet we knew this was right.

"Father..." his voice came out as barely a whisper. Sweat and tears stung as they mingled together and flowed into his cuts. "She loved you, you bastard."

Percy moved first. I had always pictured him as timid and helpless, but as his lips pressed to mine, our tongues intertwined, I knew he wasn't at all. And it wasn't just the wine, I could tell. He was strong and I was helpless to the spell he cast. He was the hunter and I was, for the first time in my life, the hunted. He wanted me, and I couldn't help but to comply.

"And now, the punishment for the traitor. May hell welcome him with open arms for his sins." A different voice. He couldn't hear very well. Every noise was fuzzy; every voice that echoed in the death chant was dim.

Forever and a day passed as we sat there on that swing, exploring every part of each other, enjoying every moment with each other. He made me feel alive, and that was something that I had never experienced. I had been slowly dying since the day I was born. It was now because of him that I lived.

It was now because of his father that he died. His body went numb as his body was beaten. Wands had been forgotten. A rotten traitor, a boy who dared to go against the Dark Lord's will, deserved no wands. He only deserved the darkest of deaths.